


Heavy In Your Arms

by Haunted_Obsidian



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Starvation, Vomiting, X-Men: First Class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Obsidian/pseuds/Haunted_Obsidian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has an eating disorder. Erik helps him along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt on the X-Men First Class Kink Com :
> 
> Charles has an eating disorder and Erik?/Shaw? loves how small he is and how easy it is to over power him. He manipulates and encourages Charles.
> 
> People around them can see how unhealthy their relationship is and try to help Charles.
> 
> The darker and more disturbing the better. Please?

The alarm was going off as it did every morning at five o'clock. It woke Erik first, as usual. A groan escaped his lips as he shook Charles, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“It's time for you to get up,” he murmured, laying a large hand across his boyfriend's back. His fingers ran up and down the ridges of Charles' spine, the feeling of bones at his fingertips waking Erik from his haze. 

Charles mumbled a response and rolled onto his side, wrapping himself tighter in the covers. 

“You still want to be able to fit into your pants now, don't you?” Erik chided gently, eyes now open and aware and staring at the smaller man next to him. He felt Charles stiffen slightly under his touch, watching with a smirk as Charles nodded and slid the covers off of him.

There were no rays of sunshine slipping through the windows with fall coming upon them, just darkness on the other side of the blinds, the lack of light causing Charles to switch on the lamp on the nightstand so he could see. 

Erik watched him as he pulled a clean pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt from their dresser, tossing them gently on the bed as he went to remove his sleep clothes. “I just need the light a little bit longer. Then I'll be off,” Charles said with a faint smile as he glanced at Erik.

“Take all the time you need,” Erik replied, gaze never leaving his boyfriend's thin frame. He was far too awake now to care about the light. He was just waiting to see what was hiding underneath Charles' sleep shirt. 

The brunette glanced at him and nodded, biting his bottom lip as he went to pull off his t-shirt. Erik didn't miss the self-conscious look in his eyes.

Even though Charles was hurrying to put the other shirt on, Erik could clearly see the spoils of his victory. Charles was thin—damn right skinny—and God-so-help him, Erik loved it. His ribs were already visible before he had to lift his arms to pull on the other shirt, and as he did, the hollows of them showed even more, the faint glow of the lamp only highlighting the fact. 

Erik felt a grin creep across his face as he took in the sight that he'd help create; the too-thin waist that none of Charles' pants seemed to properly fit on anymore. They were loose now, all of them loose. As he slid off his cotton pajama bottoms, Erik relished in the thinness of his pale legs and the hip bones that jutted out, nice and proper as they were supposed to. 

At least, Erik thought so.

He knew Charles probably did too.

Once he'd finished dressing, Charles turned the light back off and leaned across his side of the bed, planting a kiss on Erik's lips. “I'll be back later, love,” he stated with another smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and stood back up. 

“Don't forget your phone,” Erik reminded him. “Just in case.”

“I won't,” Charles replied and went out their bedroom door, making sure to close it quietly behind him.

O*O*O*O*O*O*O

Charles remembered the first time he had met Erik. 

He also recalled exactly how much he'd weighed as well because he'd gotten out of a treatment center a few days beforehand, and needless to say, he hadn't been happy where he was at.

They'd forced him to get up to 148 lbs., and that was almost more than he could bare. He'd seen the way Erik had looked him up and down when they'd bumped into each other, had seen the way his eyes had drifted to his mid-section (Charles really hated his stomach), and Charles had known right then and there that there was no way the tall, dark and handsome stranger standing before him would even dare to ask him out. 

But surprisingly enough, he had. 

They'd met again at that very coffee shop, Erik with a large cup of steaming black coffee and Charles with his tea, unsweetened, no less.

Words exchanged easily enough between them, and Charles had learned that Erik was a engineering major at Columbia, and that he was on the cusp of getting his degree. Charles had in turn told him that he too had attended Columbia, but had to drop out due to unforeseen circumstances. Erik hadn't asked what they were, and Charles hadn't told him.

Yet. 

They'd been dating for three months when Raven had visited, on spring break from UCLA. By that time, they were already living together, and Charles still hadn't told Erik about his eating disorder. He'd felt terrible about it—he really had—but the last thing he wanted to do was scare Erik away, and surely just hearing the words 'I'm a recovering anorexic and bulimic' probably would've driven the man he was falling in love with away. 

Raven hadn't been there less than thirty-six hours when she'd pulled out a picture album, laying it across the glass coffee table and immediately grabbing Erik's undivided attention. 

By the time Charles had made it back from his shift at the cafe where he and Erik had met, he'd found his boyfriend and Raven chatting and laughing like they were old friends. But that wasn't what had startled him the most. 

No, it was seeing Erik pick up a photograph of Charles when he was fifteen and ask, “What happened to you, Charles? You used to be so thin.”

Charles had felt like he'd been punched in the gut when he'd heard those words, but he'd smiled through it, giving off a light laugh and replying that his “age was just catching up with him,” even though he was barely twenty-two.

It was two weeks later when Erik finally learned the truth.

O*O*O*O*O*O

Erik stepped into the apartment, the sound of someone retching meeting his ears. He stilled, setting the mail on the table near the front door and shrugged off his bag, sitting it on the floor.

“Charles!” he called out, not getting a response. “Charles!” he tried again, worry flooding his tone. He walked passed the kitchen, eyes narrowing when he saw various empty wrappers and tins strewn about the counter tops. 

He knew they had been going through quite a bit of food lately...

His brow narrowed as he came upon the bathroom door. “Charles, are you alright?” he asked before trying the door, twisting the knob and opening it. 

Charles was on his knees in front of the toilet, chestnut-colored locks hanging in front of his eyes, skin almost as pale as the porcelain bowl before him. Erik could see how tense the muscles in his back were even through the t-shirt and heavy sweater he was wearing. His eyes were cast downward at the floor, guilt written plain as day across his visage.

Erik stood there, speechless in the doorway, mouth slightly agape.

“I thought you wouldn't be home for another hour,” Charles murmured hoarsely, bangs still hanging limply in his blue eyes. He didn't move, just kept still, tears of shame threatening to slide down his cheeks.

Erik shook his head, realization hitting him. 

“You know, you could've told me about this,” Erik stated, his voice soft without a hint of anger. He came forward slowly and leaned down, coming to rest on his haunches. Gently, he raised a hand to cup Charles freckled cheek, the younger man still too afraid to look him in the eyes. A few tears dropped from Charles lashes, falling and splashing to the tiled floor.

“I'm so sorry, Erik. I really--” 

“Sorry for what, _liebling_?” Erik asked, cupping Charles' other cheek. “You've nothing to be sorry for. It's alright,” he said, carefully pushing the younger man's bangs out of his watering eyes. 

“But I—I should've told you! I should've--”

“ _Shhh_ ,” Erik cooed softly. “I'm not mad at you. Don't cry now, it's alright,” he continued soothingly, running the pads of his thumbs underneath Charles' eyes and wiping the streaming tears away.

Charles sniffled, unable to stop the salty substance from continuing to rivet down his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip to stifle the impending sob, but it parted from his cherry red lips anyway. 

Erik quickly pulled him into an embrace, resting his hand on the nape of Charles' neck, Charles in turn burying his head into Erik's shoulder. “Charles, you've nothing to be ashamed of,” Erik stated, running a calming hand down the brunette's back. 

Charles had definitely lost weight since they'd been together. At least ten pounds or so. 

And needless to say, Erik had no complaints about it. 

He relished being the larger and stronger of the two in their relationship. Being taller was nice, but Charles being smaller and fragile—Erik couldn't help but like it. And the smaller Charles got...The thought wound it's way around Erik's brain, and wouldn't let go. 

If Charles looked this amazing at what he was now—Erik wondered what he'd look like ten to fifteen pounds lighter. Clothes so loose, Charles would look like he was swimming in them.

“I won't stop you,” Erik said, voice soft and gentle. 

Charles' head immediately popped up, his blue eyes large and full of surprise.

“You won't?” he asked, shocked. No one had ever said those words to him before. They'd only told him he was making a mistake and hurting himself, and that not eating and throwing up what he did eat was _badbadbad_. 

Erik shook his head. “Why would I stop you from doing something you want to do?” he asked, shrugging. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I did that? I—I love you, Charles, and if this makes you happy, why should I take that away from you?”

Charles' mouth opened slightly, wide-eyed wonderment consuming his features. “You-You love me, Erik?” he asked, sounding absolutely awestruck, as though it were the first time anyone had ever told him that before.

Perhaps, in a way was.

“Of course, I do, _liebling_ ,” Erik said, a smile pulling up the corners of his lips. He stroked a thumb across the soft, smooth skin of Charles' cheek. “Very much so.”

Charles sniffed again and let a tiny smile settle across his lips. “I love you too, Erik.” When Erik kissed him, Charles couldn't help but feel his heart swell. For the first time in his life, someone _accepted_ him, didn't find him disgusting or gross. Hell, Erik _loved_ him. 

_Loved_ him. 

Charles had never been more happier; that he was sure of.

Or so he thought.

O*O*O*O*O*O*O

Daylight was just starting to filter through the curtains when Charles came back in, t-shirt and hoodie soaked through with sweat, even though it had been rather chilly outside. The smell of coffee brewing led him into the kitchen, Erik's back to him as the taller man retrieved two mugs from one of the cupboards. 

“Have a good time?” Erik asked, turning around just in time to steal a quick kiss from Charles, the brunette leaning up on his tiptoes in the process.

“Yes, it was actually quite peaceful,” Charles answered truthfully, accepting the cup of black coffee from Erik gratefully, though inwardly wishing it was tea. “It seems as though everyone prefers to sleep in on Sunday.” He took a sip of the hot, dark substance, and sat the blue mug down on the counter, letting his gaze stray momentarily to the fridge. Erik's voice broke his reverie.

“You'd better go take a shower. Your sister said that if we're late, she's going to throttle the both of us, and with her _being with child_ , I wouldn't put anything past her.”

“Right, I'll be quick,” the brunette said, sliding the hoodie off as he headed toward the bathroom, Erik's eyes on him the whole time. 

He couldn't help but wonder much Charles weighed now. It'd been two weeks since his last weigh in, and Erik couldn't help but be curious. Perhaps, he'd talk Charles into doing it now instead of tomorrow. Or maybe he'd just get him to do it tomorrow too. 

Erik had a way of making Charles see things his way.

Quietly, he made his way towards the bathroom, excitement stirring within him at the sound of the water not yet running. He cracked open the door, Charles standing there in just his boxers, staring at himself in the mirror. At the sound of the door opening, his head immediately jerked in Erik's direction, a blush rousing on his cheeks.

“And what,” Erik said, coming to stand behind him, “are you doing?” He slowly wrapped his arms around the smaller man, calloused hands coming to rest on Charles' stomach.

The brunette was silent for a moment, blue eyes staring at Erik's hands in the mirror. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, watching Erik's fingers pinch at his skin. 

Charles cursed inwardly—Erik could see it too. 

See how large his stomach still was. 

He was _still_ soft in the middle. After how hard he worked to get smaller, and yet still, he was sure Erik could pinch well more than an inch. 

“I want to know how much you are now,” Erik whispered in his ear, lips lightly brushing along it, voice bordering on devious.

“Now? But I still have one more day.” Charles was trying so hard not to whine, but he couldn't help it—he knew he still hadn't reached his target. He could still get a few more runs in...

“Please? I just want to see. You don't have to look if you don't want to.” The sound of his voice in Charles' ear and the way Erik's lips just barely touched it made the brunette shiver. 

And of course, give in.

He had the _damnedest_ time saying no to Erik.

“Fine,” he sighed, though seeing Erik's lips curve up into a grin only made his as well. 

Even if the smile wasn't as large.

Erik made haste and pulled the scale out from underneath the sink and sat it down directly in front of the smaller man. He was biting his bottom lip in anticipation as Charles reluctantly stepped on, the red numbers flashing on the screen before finally coming to a stop.

Charles swallowed thickly and looked down, the numbers 115 staring back at him. His heart sunk a little, hoping that he'd at least be down to 110. He glanced at Erik once more, sheer happiness in his lover's eyes. If Erik was this happy now, Charles couldn't wait to see what he'd look like when he dropped more.

O*O*O*O*O*O

Charles couldn't help but be a bit anxious. It'd been almost two years since he'd last seen his sister, with her having moved to St. Petersburg to be with her fiance and now soon-to-be husband, Azazel. He hadn't liked the idea then, and he didn't like the idea now, but she'd told him numerous times that she was a big girl and could handle her own. 

He had listened to her argument, but hadn't been happy about it nonetheless. She would always be his baby sister, even if she was having a child of her own now, which was something he still couldn't believe. 

They were all supposed to meet for breakfast at a place in mid-town, _Moira's_ , a favorite of Raven's in the days before she left New York. 

Charles took in a breath before they entered the restaurant (he was trying so hard not to be nervous, though to no avail), Erik's hand on the small of his back as they entered.

The establishment was a quaint little place, Charles had always thought, small and cozy and familiar (he and Raven had spent many an afternoon there when they were younger, even if he hadn't eaten much off the menu). 

Raven—glowing and looking younger than her twenty-three years—and Azazel were sitting back in a corner booth, laughing until her eyes fell upon her brother.

Charles watched as her brow suddenly creased and the smile faltered (not quite as many teeth showing now), and she stood up, the navy blue, form-fitting dress she was wearing showcasing a slightly noticeably baby bump. 

“Raven, it's so good to see you,” he greeted her as he stepped forward and hugged her, the scent of her perfume tickling his nose. 

“You too,” she returned, though she sounded distant. She stepped back away from him, concern now marking her brow. “Erik,” she said, nodding at the taller man, brown eyes questioning and unsure.

“Raven, you look beautiful,” Erik said as he too embraced her, ignoring the contemplative look she was giving him.

“Thanks,” she responded, gaze drifting to her brother once more. She stood silent for a moment until Azazel cleared his throat. “Oh, and you two remember Azazel, of course,” she said, her smile temporarily brightening as she reached back to take hold of his hand. 

“Who could forget,” Charles muttered under his breath, but soon plastered a polite smile on his gaunt visage. “Nice to see you again, chap. Been taking care of my sister, I see,” he said as he slid into the opposite side of the booth.

“Of course,” the Russian man stated with a laugh, wrapping an arm around Raven's shoulders as she scooted next to him. “Though, you don't look to be faring quite as well.”

“Excuse m—“

“He's faring quite nicely, thank you,” Erik interjected, teeth clenching as he forced a smile onto his lips.

Before any more words could be exchanged between the small group, their waitress came over, one that Charles and Raven knew quite well. 

“Well, if it isn't Hansel and Gretel,” a young woman around Raven's age said jokingly, shoulder-length black hair flowing as she leaned over to give the other woman a hug.

“Angel, how have you been?” the blonde asked, returning the gesture. 

“Still here,” Angel replied. 

“Angel, still as heavenly as ever,” Charles stated, polite grin curving up the corners of his lips.

“Charles,” she said, finally getting a good look at him. “Um...,” she trailed off, taking in his too-thin appearance. He'd always been skinny, from the first day he and Raven had entered _Moira's_ , but now, he was skin and bones.

“Angel, please tell me you still have the chocolate-chip pancakes with powered sugar and whipped cream on top,” Raven inquired, not even needing a menu.

“Of course. That'll never change,” the young woman replied, scribbling the beginning of the order down on the small pad of paper she had in hand. “And you?” she asked, staring at Azazel.

“You have _syrniki_ here?” the dark-haired man asked, only to receive a puzzled look from Angel.

“He'll have the special,” Raven stated, leaning further into the man. 

“Okay, and Charles?” she asked, staring at him expectantly. 

Before he had a chance to speak, Erik responded for him. “He'll have a cup of tea and an order of toast, and I'll have an omelet with cheese and coffee, thank you.”

“O-kay,” Angel said, eying Erik suspiciously. “It'll be right up.” She hesitated before she walked away. “You sure you don't want anything else, Charles?”

The brunette's face flushed slightly before he shook his head. “No, thank you, Angel. I had a bit to eat earlier, so I'm not exactly famished.”

“Right,” the young woman nodded, glancing curiously at them before walking off behind the counter.

“If you knew you were coming here, why'd you eat earlier?” Raven asked, lips pursed and expectant for a bullshit answer.

“Because I was hungry, _Raven_ ,” Charles stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I apologize that I couldn't wait until we arrived here, but you must remember, I do rise rather early.”

“So, how's Russia?” Erik's voice cut across the table, sipping at the glass of water that had been on the table. 

“Not as cold as it used to be,” Azazel responded, cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth.

“Could have fooled me,” Charles murmured just within his sister's line of hearing, taking a sip of his water as well. He folded his hands on the table, sliding the fake smile back into place.

“So, Erik, been taking care of my brother?” Raven's tone was as biting and sarcastic as ever, the grin on her face just as fake as her brother's.

Erik's gaze met hers, his brow drawn in confusion. “Of course, I have, Raven. Why would you ask such a thing?” 

“I don't know. You tell me. How many shirts are you wearing, Charles?” she asked curtly, drawing away from her fiance, a glare gracing her glowing features as she stared down her brother.

“ _Sladkaya_ , is this the hormones talking?” Azazel asked, glancing between her and Charles.

“Afraid not,” Charles answered, looking away, hating the fact that they'd only seen each other for less than ten minutes and were already in a row. Raven had known that Charles had 'issues' with eating, but he hadn't let her know the extent of his situation. 

Every time he'd been in a treatment center, she'd been told by Sharon that he was going to intern at some genetics research center or to some conference someplace, though Charles imagined, she wasn't that stupid. 

Conferences didn't last for six months.

“Why can't you just be normal for once?” Raven's voice echoed through his ears, breaking him from his memories.

“Excuse me?” he asked sharply, brow narrowing in anger.

“Is there a reason you can't accept your brother for who he is?” Erik cut his way into the conversation, icy blue/green eyes narrowed on Raven. “If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say you were jealous of him.” A smirk tugged at his lips as he saw the anger crash over her face.

“Jealous? Of what? The fact that he's a walking skeleton and you don't see anything wrong with that?” she spat, scowl traveling back and forth between Charles and Erik. 

“Raven, I am perfectly healthy-”

“Perfectly _healthy_? Have you looked into a mirror lately, Charles? You look like you haven't eaten since the last time I saw you!” Her face was starting to redden, anger flushing her cheeks.

“That's it. Come on, Charles, there's no need to hear anymore of this nonsense,” Erik said through grit teeth and pulled Charles up by his wrist, his fingers easily wrapping around the fragile bones. He yanked Charles up, the smaller man looking like a rag doll as he was extracted from his seat and forced to his feet.

“But Erik-” Charles tried to pull away, but Erik's grip was firm.

“Let's _go_ , Charles,” the taller man ordered, not letting go of the brunette's wrist. 

“But-”

“Do you honestly want to stay here and listen to her rag on and on about how you choose to live your life and how horribly she thinks you look? Is that what you want? Because I can leave you here if it is.” Erik's voice was deep and gravelly, and his accent was coming out in full force; and his eyes were piercing right through Charles, sharp as daggers.

Charles looked up at him, the grip on his wrist almost crushing now. 

Erik was mad and he didn't like it when Erik was mad. It was a very frightening experience, one that he did not care for. 

He glanced back at Raven and saw the un-shed tears pooling in her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, an unsure look set about his features.

She turned her head away from him, shutting him out as she always did when she was upset.

He couldn't win for losing.

O*O*O*O*O*O*O

Erik still had not calmed down by the time they'd made it back to the apartment. Charles could see the way his jaw was clenching and unclenching underneath his skin. He swallowed before he spoke.

“It's alright, Erik. I'm fine. Really,” he said, absentmindedly rubbing at his already bruised wrist. 

Erik's eyes traveled from that faraway place they always went to when he was furiously upset to Charles. 

Charles couldn't help but subconsciously shrink back against the living room wall. 

In less than three seconds, Erik's much larger hands were clamped down on both of his wrists, thumbs and fingers pressing deeply into the delicate flesh.

The smaller man let out a whimper that went seemingly unnoticed by his boyfriend.

“There is nothing wrong with you, Charles, and don't let your sister tell you any different,” Erik hissed, his deep voice lower than its usual tone as he shoved the smaller man back into the wall. 

Charles let out an involuntary huff of air as the breath was expelled from his lungs upon contact. He wondered if Erik even knew his own strength...

“You should be proud of who you are, but instead, you're always hiding it. Hiding all of _this_ ,” he let one hand go as he splayed it against Charles' mid-section, “behind all these blasted clothes.” Charles saw something flash across Erik's face, something Charles could only recognize as hunger. “Take them off,” Erik commanded, releasing Charles' other wrist. 

Charles stared at him, mouth hanging open slightly. “What?”

“I said, take them off. I want to see you.”

Charles continued to stare up at him, lips forming into a pout.

“Darling, I really don't think this is necessary-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Erik's much stronger arms and hands and fingers were reaching towards him, yanking off the over-sized sweater that was hiding the other three layers that rested upon Charles rail-thin frame underneath. 

“Erik, please-”

But it was no use. 

Erik was stronger—far stronger—than him, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. It wasn't long before he was standing there in just his ridiculously loose khakis, a belt with extra holes poked in it holding them up.

He shivered and folded his arms across his pale chest, sternum and breastbones and ribs ever visible.

Erik quickly slapped his arms away, grabbing hold of his wrists once more and holding them down at his sides. “God, just look at you,” the larger man murmured, damn near entranced. “Charles, you're just so-so beautiful.” 

The brunette could feel the tears welling in his eyes. “Erik...,” his voice was just a whisper.

“No, you're _going_ ,” the hands squeezed tighter, “to listen to me. Just look at you,” Erik said, pulling him back into the bathroom, the mirror hanging large and telling on the wall. Erik easily pulled Charles in front of him in the position that they had been in earlier that morning. 

A tear rolled down Charles' cheek. “Please stop.”

“Charles, you are stunning now. And with a little more work, you'll be _perfection_ ,” Erik's voice ghosted across his ear. “Just a little bit more, and then you'll be able to see what I see. Just a little more to go, I promise.” 

Charles stared miserably at his reflection. 

He didn't think he'd ever see what Erik saw. Because if there was one think Charles knew, he would never be perfect. 

He'd always be flawed—never thin enough, never good enough—never.

But instead of voicing his thoughts, he just bit his bottom lip and nodded in agreement. “Just a little bit more,” he repeated in a whisper, blue eyes glimmering with tears.

O*O*O*O*O*O

Charles stared at the numbers on the scale, letting a semi-indulgent smile spread across his face. He turned his head slightly, glancing up at Erik, a shark-like grin showcasing shiny white teeth.

“I did it, Erik.” Charles voice was soft, barely audible in the quiet space. “Ninety-nine.”

“I'm so proud of you,” Erik said, genuine joy in his tone, his muscular arms wrapped tightly around Charles, head resting on the bony shoulder below him. “Perfection, Charles. Absolute perfection.”

**Author's Note:**

> sladkaya - sweetheart
> 
> syrniki - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syrniki


End file.
